


Life of Auguste

by saernamaz



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: A mix between memoirs and a historical chronicle, Auguste-Centric, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saernamaz/pseuds/saernamaz
Summary: Crown Prince Auguste had a rich life. From 1 to 25 year-old, his life had been filled with adventures.On the eve of the battle of Marlas, he remembers his life, from his very first moment, to his present 25 years. His adventures, his relationships, his mistakes and his regrets, from his first word to the first time he rode to battle at Sanpelier.
Relationships: Aleron & Auguste (Captive Prince), Auguste & Hennike (Captive Prince), Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince), Auguste/OFM (Captive Prince), Auguste/OMC (Captive Prince), Hennike & Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. 1st year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is one.
> 
> He is welcomed by the Kingdom and by the gods, while he learns how to navigate the world and terrifies a whole castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auguste deserves more fanfics to be honest, I love him, my disaster boy. 
> 
> This work is inspired by a Napoleon II biography I'm reading and by my on childhood memories, lmfao. 
> 
> P.S: I don't know how children work. I really don't.

Auguste did not remember his birth. Of course, who would? But, curious by nature, he had read the archives and the newspapers’ articles about his birth and his religious rite of adoption into Vere’s religion.

His birth had been complicated. His mother was still very young and fresh out of Kempt. She was still slightly distressed, and the maids had feared it would have an impact on the heir. Fortunately, Auguste had been born healthy, although very still and silent for five minutes, during which everyone believed him to be dead and had put him on a cushion on the ground, until he cried loudly. His wet-nurse had then picked him him promptly and had laughed in relief, eyes glassy. His weakened and tired mother could only smile and stretch her arms to welcome her son. They already looked alike, subdued honeyed skin and vibrant golden hair like the daffodils that grew in the gardens.

There had been a grand feast after that. As the first male heir of the Kingdom, a hundred cannons thundered in Arles, announcing the merry news. People in the streets had danced and abandoned their work to go rejoice in the capital city’s market place, and according to his mother, the screams of joy and the laughter of their people could be heard even in her bedroom, where she had gave birth to him, and while he was sleeping soundly in her arms. Hastily, people decorated their windows with beautiful white flowers, dressed in their best clothes and applied expensive make up on their face and ornamented their upper body with luxurious jewelry. Everything for their young prince.

His father, relieved and happy beyond words, had declared the whole week of his birth sacred, and that no one should work and simply celebrate their prince. He was born in winter, and as a gift, the king gracefully gave the poorer citizens wood and exempted them of paying the wheat tax for the month. A thing he probably should not have done, according to Auguste, since the parties and the rite of adoption for him had been so very expensive, that the country almost went bankrupt, were it not for the rich province of Delfeur and its buzzing activity, or the newly conquered territory in Vaskian former lands where Vere had discovered a silver mine. They even had to borrow money from Kempt, which never asked it back since their princess was the current Queen, and her son was as much their heir and prized baby, as he was Vere’s.

His wet-nurse, a fairly young and bright lady from her mother’s suite named Vannes, was tender and affectionate with him. She could not produce milk, as she never had a child yet, but she fed him regularly with sugary cow milk, and sang lullabies for him. He had been a very capricious toddler, she had once confessed. He did not like to be put in his basket, and could only sleep in her arms, soothed by a rocking movement. He cried often, sometimes for no reason other than that he needed to throw a tantrum. But everyone indulged him, as precious as he was, the wonderful heir that survived his first year and that had not got sick. He was the pride of the castle, and everyone swooned over him, courtiers and servants alike.

When he was not crying, he was laughing. A high-pitched sound, clear as bells that his mother adored. He was a friendly babe, never showing signs of anxiety around strangers, and Vannes once told him that one day, as he was being carried by his mother during her walk through the gardens with her suite, he saw a guard with a tall and feathery hat, and he had tried to catch it when they had been near the guard, stretching in her mother’s arms and cooing adoringly. The guard had blushed at the baby’s attention, and his superior, which was walking with them to ensure the Queen’s safety, had laughed and had told the young soldier to give him the feather, and that he personally would buy the youth two new hats. The young guard had then handed him to feather, and Auguste had smiled at him brightly. They had all been charmed by the little prince, and it was said that the young guard, a youth of barely sixteen at the time, had always prized himself at having gifted the prince his first “toy”. When, years later, he died during the battle of Sanpelier as his guard, his last act on his dying bed was to gift Auguste a golden feather.

Even as a child, he had loved music, and only calmed down when Vannes or his mother sang, or when musicians played their instruments. When music was playing, he was still, as if he was concentrating on the music and lulled into silence. He often stared at the source of the soft, delicate sounds and blinked slowly, as if falling asleep. But he never fell asleep when music was playing, even lullabies. He had loved animals too. Queen Hennike had been a lover of dogs, and had plenty running around in the gardens. When they went on strolls, her dogs were by her side, and Auguste could see them playing and laugh at the furry beings running around in circles. Vannes had let him pet a puppy once, and he had been so happy that his mother had decided to gift him to him. She had been named Naïs for him, and growing up, Auguste had never stopped loving her. Somehow, she had been his first friend.

Two months after his birth, a grand banquet had been organized, and the whole Kingdom was invited. Nobles from Varenne to Arran came to the capital to meet the young prince and indulge in the capital’s luxuries. For the occasion, a painter had been commissioned to paint him and to send his portrait to the foreign courts of Patras, Akielos, Vask, Kempt, Acquitart even, which had been gifted to him by his uncle, who had been ruling it until then.

The feast had been marvelous. The wine flew red, the music played loud, the food permeated tables, performers danced until their feet ached and nobles caressed and kissed him relentlessly, his father most of all. He had been sitting in his lap, and according to his mother, his father never once let go of him, and pampered him with attention, until his brother had deemed it inappropriate, even for a young father, and took Auguste away so the King could mingle with his courtisans. His uncle took care of him for the rest of the night, coddling him in his arms until he fell asleep, sitting by lady Vannes and his mother, and pleasantly talking with the courtiers around him.

Four months after his birth, his rite of passage into life had finally been planned. The physicians around the palace had deemed him healthy enough to survive the year and had agreed to let him go outside in the softer winter, bordering on spring. The air was still chilly, and the nature still dead, but the physicians were confident he would be fine.

He had been dressed in frills and covered in pearls. His little white dress was a wonder, in the latest trend and in soft silks offered by Patras as a gift for the little prince and designed by a new cloth merchant named Charls, who would later be appointed as the royal tailor. His own little suite, composed of his mother, her maids and his wet-nurse were dressed in a similar fashion, but in bright colors, from navy blue to pink, to compliment his white dress. Once ready, they all climbed abord a golden horse-drawn carriage, ornamented with little bas-relief of cherubs and flowers. They crossed Arles, from the castle in the middle of the city, to a gigantic temple in the north-east dedicated to Astarte, the patron goddess of the royal family, as well as the goddess of war, fertility and beauty.

The ceremony had been practically quick, but sumptuous. The temple had been decorated with flowers and his very own banner, a golden starburst on blue. The priest had sprinkled holy water on his forehead and had kissed the little reversed moon he had drawn on it, and finally blessed him in an ancient, long forgotten language except by Astarte’s servants. And just like that, under thunderous applauses, he had been recognized by the goddess’ as her child through the divine avatar that was his father, and legitimated his place as a prince and a descendant of the gods. His person was sacred now, untouchable and holy, capable of fantastic deeds and to lead the country to glory. Still, at the time, the excitement of the crowd had overwhelmed him and he had started to sob, marking a well-deserved nap. Vannes had took him from the priest’s arms, and, with a nod from the Queen, left the ceremony with her pet and a few maids to take the carriage back to the empty castle to watch over the sleeping babe while adults were partying in the gardens and in the streets. 

He learned how to talkand recognize his own name quickly after his rite of adoption, very early according to physicians, which was a mark of great intelligence. It was more a sound than a word, to be exact, a simple “ma”, which was interpreted as a call for his mother, who had rushed to him and pampered him with kisses. The newspapers had printed his first word, and the people had swooned at such tenderness. The whole Kingdom knew exactly where the young prince was situated in his education and watched over it with passion. News about their golden prince were few, only delivering milestones in his development, but appreciated and celebrated.

The more he grew, the more courtiers offered him gifts, from wooden toys and fancy clothing to gifts for later, such as a pony to train or jewels, weapons, armors. He was even gifted with his very own private garden, filled with the smells he loved the most, so jasmine, orchids, lilies, roses,amaryllis, vanilla flowers, cherry trees, orange trees, and so much more that he could not identify, but that filled his gardens with magnificent colors and lovely smells. Curious as he was, he explored it merrily, crawling on the polished stones and observing the insects with great interest. He sometimes slipped away from his maids’ watch to go on adventures, at the exasperation and horror of his mother, who had fretted so much the first time he did it, that fell ill and had to stay in bed for two weeks to heal her fever.

Ultimately, guards were assigned to him, with the order to _never_ take their eyes off him when his maids were busy. It had been a fairly amusing picture, watching two grown men watch over a crawling baby in the hallways during one of Auguste’s expeditions, and carrying him back to his bedroom when they deemed that he had had enough stimuli and needed to be taken care of by his nurses. The empathetic servants often gifted them chocolate when they passed.

His little aventures stopped when his first teeth started to appear. Auguste did not remember the pain, but if it was anything like when his molars grew in his young adult years, he could empathize with his younger self. It _hurt_. And he made sure that the whole castle knew. He never stopped crying for a month, and even the salves of the doctors were not enough to make him stop. Finally, a newly hired doctor named Paschal proposed that instead of rushing to him, they should let him cry alone, so that he would calm by himself and not associate his tantrums with overwhelming attention. It worked. He stopped crying soon after people stopped coming to ease him. Paschal explained that he was craving attention so much, that he would have continued to cry, should people have continued coming to him, a normal condition in toddlers, but that could be a bother to people around him.

Everything was alright. The healthy prince was not crying anymore, and laughed again as he departed for another adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always had the feeling that Auguste would be a menace, as a child, as a teen and as a young adult alike. So, of course, he is a menace as soon as he is born. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this tiny chapter!! And hopefully I'll (finally) finish a fic I'm trying to write and not be at loss for ideas or under the blank page syndrome's devilish grasp five chapters into it. (I love writing kids being hurricanes though, so it should be fine!!)


	2. 2nd year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is two.
> 
> He throws tantrums, learns how to behave, becomes the world's most beloved and exemplary prince, and hits his guards to show his endless affection for them for bringing him on adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is a DOLL in this chapter. He's a soft kid, despite being a walking headache. ❤️

Auguste learned how to walk very quickly, for he understood very early that it meant more adventures when he saw the soldiers train in the yard. Vannes had squealed excitingly when he took his first step alone, and laughed quietly when he fell for the first time. He had laughed too then, and bounce happily on the ground, until Vannes picked him up and continued to train him to walk properly. When he could master more than five steps on his own, he had been presented to his father in his office. He had walked eagerly to his father, who had been so happy that he had laughed and abandoned his work for the rest of the day to go walk with his heir.

He took great delight in running around his room, jumping, climbing objects and screaming. He was a hurricane, Vannes had said, an awful golden tornado that kept babbling non-sense for the sake of speaking and throw his toys at courtiers. The court indulged the little terror that he was, and at two, people had found it endearing to see such agitation. Even his father, who valued order above all, watched him run around the throne room when it was empty with adoration, and did not really scold him when he bothered the guards. He only ever sat calm during religious offices conducted early enough in the morning for him to be exhausted still.

As he grew, courtiers started to introduce him to their sons, who were mainly older than him but who were adequate playing partners. He particularly liked playing with Berenger, a shy young boy from Varenne who would grow up to be his best friend, for the sole reason that he never asked Auguste to play with _his_ toys, as the others would. Once, the son of a minor lord from Lys had taken his favorite plush without his consentent, and Auguste had cried so loudly and for so long, that the King thought the child had done some unspeakable thing to his son and had almost banished him and his family from court, until the little prince confessed that it was because the boy had taken _Chouchou_ , his stuffed dolphin, not without a ounce of shame and guilt at behaving so childishly, despite the manners Vannes tried to teach him.

As a capricious child, he often threw tantrums, when he was overstimulated by the loud laughters of his mother’s suite, when someone touched his things, when he could not understand something, when his puppy was separated from him, when he did not like the food… But, as a clever and curious toddler, he could easily be reasoned and more often than not, distractions were efficient enough to calm him down. Except if someone touched _Chouchou_ , that is. _Chouchou_ was sacred, and his best friend. Or except when he had to trained to be clean. Sitting on a pot was still overwhelmingly difficult for him and most maids other than Vannes where easily exasperated at the prospect of staying minutes in front of a child supposed to relieve oneself, which made him cry.

Auguste _loved_ praises, and if he did not get them, he would be out of himself for relentless hours. When adults around him started to understand that, even more praises — if it was even possible considering how everyone always watched him with love and pride — flew his way to avoid a renown princely tantrum.

He still went on a lot of adventures at two, longer adventures supervised by his guards where he learned how to climb trees with the help of a very young guard named Orlant who soon became a sort of partner in crime, and learned how to swim. He loved water very much, and the guards indulged him — and themselves — and they all spent many summer afternoons in ponds or in fountains. Swimming came naturally to him, and although he still needed help to float, his technique was quite good for that of a toddler.

During these afternoons, Auguste also liked to practice his vocabulary, and talked about anything and everything a lot to the guards, who snickered discreetly at his, objectively, small vocabulary and his bizarre adjunction of words. It was still better than his singing, and butchering, of famous ballads he heard during banquets and feasts, or worse, that he heard the guard sing. He was already a social butterfly, and loved to babble at people and to be answered to. The fact that he rarely felt shyness or shame helped with that, and it would still do in years to come. He especially loved telling people that he liked them, and would often run after courtiers, even some he did not know, while screaming ‘ _I love you_ ’ repeatedly.

At the end of his adventures, his guards would often show him some sword fighting moves. The first they did it, Auguste had cried and begged them not to fight, until another young guard, Jord,crouched down and gently told him that they were not fighting but being friendly. “So, if I hit my friends, it means I like them?” Auguste had then asked, as he started to hit Jord repeatedly in the chest and Orlant laughed so hard that his nose bled. Jord was bright red and he tried to tell him not to actually hit people and that it was a particular friendship only guards experiences, and that he should stick to hugs and kisses for now.

If summer meant freedom for him, the other seasons were mostly spent indoors, to avoid any disease and to study. Men with long robes came to his chambers to teach him how to read, to expend his vocabulary and to teach him some easy bits of history, as well as who was who in court through little games or educative books, making him recite extracts of books or making him show where each country was. He had even been gifted an entire library, that was named after him and built just for him, and maps and globes. He learnt that he would rule the Kingdom someday then, and that he had to be very intelligent and educated to do so, that it was a lot of responsibilities and that he would be independent in everything he undertook as a King. Craving independence, Auguste took to learning, although it was not his forte. He mostly learnt because he was forced to, or because his mother promised him that if he did great at reading, she would let him learn how to ride a pony instead of just sitting in a little carriage drawn by sheep — which she did, and he was very good at riding and absolutely loved it. His father was very involved in his studies, and always encouraged him to do better, and, not one to disappoint, he worked hard to please. As a good little prince, he was clever and educated, and he did good by his studies, even if he still cried sometimes, when he did not understand one particularly couple sentence.

If anything, his tutors were understanding and kind, and when he started getting fuzzy, would call in Vannes and advice a nap for him. He disliked naps, _it was wasted time_ , he thought, while chasing any feeling of tiredness or unease. But Vannes always found a way into tricking him to sleep, either by exhausting him completely while pretending to indulge him in some games like hiding around his room, or very simply by coddling him under his blankets and letting the warmth lull to sleep.

After his naps, he generally had dinner with his father and mother, whom he saw less and less, and they would indulge him in polite games, listen to him talk of his day with childish gibberish or shower him in affection. They would make puzzles under the candlelight and laugh together at some acrobatics Auguste would perform, trying to imitate the performers that flowed the castle when a feast was given.

Auguste loved them dearly, and they return his affection a thousand more. His father was so proud of his sunshine son, that each time he passed him in the hallways, he stopped to hug him and give him a kiss. He was a playful figure in his life, smearing sauce on his face at dinner when Auguste asked for a taste of “grown up food” or teasing him when he struggled to say a word. “Ha! You’re lazy, my boy! At your age, I had already defeated fourteen Akielons.” Auguste had believed him, young as he was, naive and easily impressed and his father had become a model for him, who was raised with love for military exploits through fables and tales, or the wooden swords gifted to him by the general of the army. His mother was a gentler figure, always fretting over him, and taking good care of him. She kissed his pain away, and welcomed him in her bed whenever he had nightmares and came toddling to her open door. She was delicate when she handled him, as if he might break, and loved to carry him around when he was feeling tired. She was always the one to wash him during his toilette in the morning and in the evening, and to make his ablutions before religious offices.

His parents also indulged him and played pretend with him, gracefully accepting his invitation to “tea”, which really were just empty porcelain teacups gifted to him by the marquess of Lys for his first birthday and delicate plated filled with all sort of flowers he picked up in the afternoon with Jord. The Queen would sometimes speak to him in Kemptian during their “tea time”, posing as foreign ambassador to teach him the language, while his father spoke in Akielon, pretending to be a _Kyros_ coming to speaking with the little prince about the weather apparently. At two, he had basic vocabulary in Kemptian, Veretian as well as Akielos, could have a conversation and understand officials that came to court or his Kemptian relatives, and thus became the pride of the Kingdom and the perfect example of an educated prince. So much that the new heiress of Vask, born three years before him, promptly adopted the Veretian’s royal education system, and particularly their language system of placing the child in contact of people speaking the foreign languages to ease the learning process. Veretian philosophers even started written treaties on the good education of a prince after such fuzz about his education, and the morals one should have, and sent it to the Crown, in hopes to be acknowledged and for their enlightened program to be taken into consideration to bring their Nation to glory in the near future.

Some other nights, his parents would take him with them to pose for a painting for a small hour in lieu of having tea with him before bed. Often tired by his day, Auguste would stay still and let the painter sketch him on his _enormous_ canvas, before being dismissed. Sometimes, he would longe a bit and stay, watching the painter mix powders together to create bright hues and color the characters on the canvas. The following morning, after the morning offices, he would often be found trying to reproduce the sketch by himself before his tutors arrived. He was often complimented on his talent, and he took a liking to art as such. If he was honest with himself, he would say that the praises were probably half-lies, and that his childhood art was maybe better than other children, but not worth the generous compliments he had received. He was a much better artist in his teenager years, but he was glad people encouraged him to draw and did not deter him for such an “unprincely” activity.

But as long as their golden little prince was alright, Vere was glad and would indulge everything he undertook, with tenderness in their eyes and loving sigh hanging from their lips. Auguste was their perfect little doll, and the prime example of an enlightened little prince, educated with strong morals and cared for. People already knew how great a ruler he would be, social and nice as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, by the way, I based my representation of royal education on European Renaissance/Early modern times' education, or at least the few facts we have about it. 
> 
> I can't wait to make more consistant chapters as he grows up!! Chapters up until four/five are a bit messy and unchronological because, well, kids at two don't exactly live tons of adventures, and Auguste does not remember his early years, so everything is from archives and anecdotes.


	3. 3rd year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is three.
> 
> He falls sick, discovers Kempt and pets, while war is raging between Vere and Vask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for keeping up with this story 💜
> 
> By the way, I gave Auguste some flaws, since Laurent is unreliable, so he's a hyperactive, temperamental, but sweet little kid. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Unfortunately, Auguste fell ill just a few weeks after his birthday. A terrible sickness, that forced him to stay in bed for two months, during which he did not speak a word and kept sucking on his pacifier, an habit he had lost, by dint of education and exercices of reigning in his impulses. Vannes had tried to get it away from him, once, and he had cried and trashed, until she ultimately gave it back to him, closed his curtains, and force him to bed. Words of his weakened condition spread rapidly through Arles, and worried citizens soon flooded the streets just below his window to catch a glimpse of their little prince. It had been so nefarious for his condition, that his father had had to have the national guards to intervene. Even more guards were added to his security, in case any spy would benefit from his current state. Apparently, few rulers would feel particularly bad at the prospect of murdering a sick three year-old if they could benefit from it.

If he was clingy and terrible when healthy, he was even worse sick and constantly demanded attention from his nurses and his parents. Afraid for the Queen, who was still exhausted from a miscarriage, the King had forbad her from going to see her son, in case he would contaminate her. He had been so heart-broken, that he had refused to eat for two whole days, until his father himself came to scold him. Ashamed and relatively scared of his father’s stern look, he had eaten the three bowls of soup Vannes gave him eagerly.

He got healthy quickly after that, accepting to be healed, to eat and to sleep accordingly to the physician Paschal’s orders. As soon as he got better, he went for a walk with Vannes, passing happy citizens who applauded him. He received gifts for his good health. His mother gifted him a guard uniform she had made him during his rest, and he absolutely loved it. He constantly put it on, to Vannes’ utter despair, discarding his nice and fancy clothes to go “play guard”. Orlant found it hilarious and was the first to call him “little soldier”. The nickname stuck with his guard until he was ten.

Auguste was more and more shown to the people. He accompanied his father to parades, during which he was particularly “naughty”, refusing to sleep the day before, and thus being ill-tempered for the rest of the day, morosely sitting in his mother’s lap on the dais, and dozing off now and then, which made him miss a huge part of the cavalcade, which in turn made him sour. He also was presented numerous times to a cheering crowd from the palace’s balcony, surrounded by his family — his mother, father and uncle — in the arms of his wet-nurse.

Auguste learned later that this first contact with his people was not so much to give him the taste of crowds, but rather to appease the public opinion, reverential to him and which manifestly lionized him, in relation to tension between Vere and Vask. His father sought even more territories and was ready to go to war for it. The Empress had united the different tribes together in a league against the warmongerish neighboring Kingdom and was prepared. Kempt, in a long tradition of pacifism, was wholly against an invasion, and refused to lend them troops. They also accused King Aleron of having “taken hostage” the Queen and the heir, never allowing them to visit their Kemptian family.

Undeterred, his father went to war this very year. They progressed slowly, contrary to the previous war, and the casualties were heavy. He would not see his father for the rest of the year. The little prince dearly missed his father, and often asked about him to his mother. She could only tell him that he thought of him, asked about him and for portraits of him and kissed him in his letters. A positive point to his father’s absence, was that he only had to say that he loved his father, for the courtiers to exult over him and forgive his every naughty behavior and excess of anger. He was at an age, said Paschal, where he would constantly test the limits of everything around him, and especially his carers’ patience. But he was a kid with a heart of gold, or so everyone said, who knew how to promptly apologize about his misdeeds and promise to be better.

Eventually, lonesome and depressed, her mother had announced to court that she would spend some time in Kempt, to visit her family and to introduce her son to foreign affairs. In their absence, the power was relegated to his uncle, who ensured the place of Regent. They received no letters to denounce his uncle, or to point out anything out of the ordinary in the days that followed their departure, so their time in Kempt had been relaxing and sweet.

He played with Kemptian children a lot, and discovered their peculiar culture with either his tutors or older children who entertained him. Most children at court were older than him, and they quickly grew to like him, and baby him even. The attention was welcomed, and he particularly loved to be pampered by the young girls, who liked to hold and kiss him. One girl in particular, a young girl named Hildegard, whom he would call “my dear love” and kiss on the cheek a lot. His mother found it endearing, and she never had the heart to tell him that display of affection between men and women in Vere was taboo as long as they were in Kempt.

His mother soon made him continue his studies, which had been ceased to give him time to heal and to prepare their visit to Kempt. Avid of adventures and the outdoors, Auguste had simulated a toothache to not have to go see tutors. It was not that he disliked them or what they taught, but he estimated that he was better climbing a tree than reading another moralizing fairytale. His mother had then looked at him with pitiful eyes, and had said that if his condition was so terrible, they should let him rest in bed, and not go out anymore, for it would worsen his ache. He got better in two small days, and Vannes laughed heartily as he said so, so proudly and self-content.

Nonetheless, to prevent such an effect to happen again, one of his tutors, an old man named Séverin, proposed to adopt the Akielos system and to dispense his theoretical lessons in the gardens. A little corner had been converted for him in the gardens of Kempt, where he would learn his letters surrounded by flowers and fresh air. He started to become more involved as soon as the lessons started being outside, and the Queen decided that from then on, except during cold days and bad weather, he would have his classes outside, to his delight.

But what he preferred above all was to ride his filly, or to play the piano. He was possibly good at piano for his age, and had master his scales quickly. His hands were still gauche, but his teach hardly expected him to be an Antoine, who was then a young prodigy and a favorite composer of the Veretian court. But he certainly excelled at riding. He was steady in the saddle, and horses naturally loved him. He was great with animals in general, considering how loving his now-dog was with him, or how birds always came to him for food when he strolled the gardens, but horses particularly loyal to him, and listened to him. His uncle once told him that he should pride himself in that fact, for horses were very capricious and arrogant beings, and to really trust a person, they had to be very good.

In his free-time, he still drew a lot, copying the wonderful new style of Kemptian paintings, simplistic and colorful, concentrating on characters and actions, more than on backgrounds or the surrounding as was the case in current Veretian paintings. He offered his mother a lot of his work, and sometimes would gift some to his grandmother the Queen of Kempt, his grandfather, even his aunts and uncles in Kempt, his cousins or his guards when he draw scenes of war. Jord secretly kept a copy of one particularly good drawing of a very ancient battle that opposed Vere to Kempt decades ago.

Concerning the current war with Vask, Vere at the end of the year grew stronger thanks to better logistics, and started to win more and more battles, claiming victory was on its way. His mother, who had since became entirely Veretian in her very core, was glad of these victories and and the benefits Vere could gain from the new territories. Kempt was lenient with his father, and did not hold any prejudice for the war, and continued to have amiable relationships.

Nonetheless, troubles were a permanent thing in Arles, his mother soon discovered. A letter from an anonymous man in Arles, sent to a member of the Queen’s suite, a military officer, uncovered a plot to overthrow the current monarchy and install a militaristic dictature instead, which would be favorable to Akielos and Vask, at the expense of Patras and Kempt. They departed for Arles soon after the letter was discovered, Queen Hennike pretexting that her husband’s brother was confronted to a dilemma in the capital and requested her help. The military officier was secretly murdered, although it was passed at the time as a suicide after a lover’s quarrel.

As a toddler, Auguste was of course not informed of the political reasoning behind their departure, but it did not mean that he was absolutely free from the negative influences and tensions in court. It made particularly fretful, and he slept worse than ever, nightmares permeating his nightmares, and begging for his father to come back. The Queen, who had taken her rightful place as Regent, tried to calm the situation and sent spies to investigate the plot. Nothing tangible was discovered, but calm came back anew in court, and so it was put aside for now.

Once the crisis was aborted, Auguste relaxed considerably, and continued to play and study normally. He did not have nightmares anymore, and his father’s absence was put into perspective and did not upset him so terribly. His letters were more frequent, and the child, putting on his exquisite guard costume, played at being a postman, bringing the letters himself to his mother, and bringing his mother’s letters for his father to the official military messenger.

His curiosity never alleviated as he grew. He used to stomp his foot when his mother refused to let him read the letters his father sent him, and cry when had was denied access to a place. He grew over it as soon as Vannes told him that his subjects would not respect him if they saw him being so angry all the time, and he apologized and immediately worked to get better. Heart of gold, people said. His curiosity actually only became a problem the very first day he was confronted with reality of pet. They would normally be banned in his presence, but it was hidden in a bush, without his guards knowing, that he first saw two women becoming intimate in the gardens. Instinctively intrigued, he had gasped loudly and ran to his guards, innocently asking what “licking carpet” was actually, and Jord had gone so pale, the child was pretty sure he would pass out, before he brought him to his mother, who laughed quietly at the guard’s embarrassed expression and Auguste’s still lost one.

Even during war, Auguste was a bright star who anchored his Kingdom in joy and made it forget the terrible news of the front. His constant happiness was a motivation for the people of Vere, who were still enamored with their little child, a curious, bright and clever young boy, who always strived to get better, as everyone should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely based on Napoleon II's own reactions to his father's absence during the Russian (I think, or Prussian?) campaign. 
> 
> Protect Auguste at all cost...


	4. 4th year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is four.
> 
> He has to take on the mantle of Crown Prince earlier than excepted, and discovers the world, for better and for worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry for posting this chapter so late. I kinda of do not know how to write these childhood chapters anymore because ? Children don't do much, so it's more of an exposition of Vere's political situation than anything else.
> 
> Also, I went to Paris (bad idea) this weekend. And now France is on complete lockdown lol, so this is kinda stressful I guess ? I honestly don't know how I feel, but yeah. I think I'm not that fine considering how grim this chapter is. 
> 
> Auguste grows more and more aware of the political situation 👀

The war was still raging on as he celebrated his fourth birthday. As a grown young boy, his tutors started to be more exigent with him, asking him to memorize even more poems and to recite them perfectly, or asking him to be perfectly knowledgable about the known world’s geography. Vannes was still fretting over him, but progressively put more and more distance between them. Auguste terribly missed his “ _Mamanes_ ”, and it felt to him like another beloved person growing away from him, after his father. He left his little dresses for masculine costumes, pants and embroiled jackets, resembling his military costume more and more.

With his father gone, he became even more present in the public royal life. His mother presented him more and more to the people, the religious figures, diplomats and ambassadors, and even if they mostly left him to play in the yard with his imposed friends, sons of high born lords or the sons of his governesses, nurses or entourage, he was sometimes required to act as the Crown Prince and be still and quiet. He saw Akielon, Kemptian and Patran ambassadors crowd the court, and he himself had to travel to these courts with his suite and his uncle to visit foreign courts and act as an official embassy.

Basal, the Patran capital was a fortress, nested between tall, grassy hills. Its dark walls made of stones seemed to mock any aggressors that might try to take it, taunt them into trying and failing for the people’s amusement and the bards’ songs. With an agressive neighbor such as Akielos, it was understandable. The court, on the contrary to the exterior of their city and palace, was warm and friendly. The ladies, who mingled with men without shame, swooned over him whenever he passed by them, and he strutted before them, sticking out his chest and smiling brightly. The men were in quiet adoration over him, and were very attentive to his needs, disguising it as politeness.

Politically, Patras was a strong ally of Vere’s, despite their different opinion of slavery. His mother was the one to ask the King to forbid slavery, and in love and easily influenced, the King had promptly made it illegal and stopped the trade with Patras. Both countries almost launched into a war, barely avoided thanks to the Patran Queen’s, King Torgeir’s wife, pregnancy and economical problems inside Vere because of unemployment and the problem of the education of slaves. The catastrophe was avoided, and both countries made other arrangements. Vere quickly found a new economical field in haute couture and luxurious items traded in the whole world, while Patras was happy with just trading manufactured goods and precious stones. The crystal chandeliers of Arles were all from Patras, and so were most of the crockery and furnitures.

Ios, on the other hand was a very open and bright city. Always exposed to the bright and warm sun, the white marble of the city glittered all day long and blinded you subsequently. The people walked around the city in colorful chitons that left most of their bodies bare to enjoy the warmth and tan beautifully. To Auguste, it was a majestic sight, to see nature at the center of the art, of the life, of everything. Their culture was modest, but gigantic, tall marble columns looking down at you, while soft cotton sheets swayed in the wind. Ios was made to enhance the beauty of nature, and not to be itself beautiful and magnificent like in Arles. The people were naturally friendly, although perhaps more direct and aggressive in their behavior. They touched you without asking, and their embraces lasted longer than what would be considered polite in Vere. It was a nice change of scenery and Auguste found himself entranced with the simplicity of Akielos.

The Kingdom of Akielos was not so much an ally of Vere as a politically frightening presence. The memory of Delfeur was still sharp in the memory of both countries, as a particularly deadly conflict that his father launched only for territories and riches. King Theomedes was a resentful person, whose tongue slipped in front of children. Auguste could hear him mutter insults about Vere and promise vengeance. As an ambassador and a candid figure, his presence was there to soften the tensions, but he soon realized that Theomedes was not one to swoon, on the contrary to his legitimate wife or the people of the court. His son, Kastor, was even worse.

Kastor was perhaps six years older than Auguste, but even at ten, his only pastime seemed to be to antagonize him. It had started by slanders and light offenses to him or Vannes, but led to graver offenses and even an attempt on his life. He had been forced to hang out with the young Crown Prince, and he had led him to the gardens, away from adults to “play”. Auguste, not one to hold a grudge and desperately bored, had accepted and together they walked the gardens. At a fountain, Kastor intimated to watch the bottom for rare fishes and bright jewelry. He had obeyed, and as he was bent over the rail, Kastor pushed him in the water. He hit his head hard enough to draw blood, and lost consciousness. He only survived because a guard had passed by and saw his body floating. He was brought to a doctor immediately and after three days of unconsciousness, he had woken up with a terrible headache and nauseous, but otherwise without sequels.

His mother and uncle soon were informed that Kastor was responsible, and urged the King to do something, but he simply scoffed and swept their concerns away. “Boys’ games,” he had said. “It happens.” Hennike informed her husband of the situation, and a few days later, a company of guard arrived in Ios with a threat of heavy consequences if Theomedes did not punish, even a little, his son for his unruly behavior. Theomedes had reluctantly punished Kastor to ten whiplashes and had sent the Vere congregation away. Auguste had apologized personally, in a desperate attempt at calming the King, and when he had looked at him with disdain, Auguste had stumped his foot and said, solemnly: “Well, the bears in my stories have more merit than a real one, sir, for they do not lack intelligence, contrary to you.” Theomedes had laughed then, and for the first time, had smiled at Auguste and accepted his apology.

Vere was still deeply troubled by the war when they went back to Arles. Poverty was the norm in the streets, and despite the new economical policies, things were not getting better. Auguste had to watch kids his age beg in the streets for some bread while nobles were partying and eating more than they should in another room. They celebrated victories on Vask and the “detestable Empress”, and glory for Vere. But Auguste could tell that the campaign was not as glorious as nobles made it to be.

He was sacred this year, to bless his reign and legitimate him as a King. Crown Princes were usually sacred at a certain age, often sixteen, and if they were sacred before, it was because the current King was dying or in danger. His tutors made the mistake of teaching it to him earlier. He knew exactly why he was dressed in such a pristine suit, embroiled with precious stones and wonderful designs, why his hair was so neatly done and his curls were brought in a ponytail to enhance his face or why his eyes and lips were painted in a deep mauve. He was dressed as a child of Astarte to be blessed and for him to be able to reclaim the Throne when his father passed away, and officially promulgue him as a divine royal, whose power was delegated to him by the goddess herself. A coronation was not always followed by a direct crowning, and at the time, Auguste had hoped that he would not have to assist at his own crowing, for it would mean that his father had died.

The ceremony was grandiose, with the entirety of the clergy and his suite present to welcome him. The people had been invited to assist to the ceremony, as were the nobility of Vere and important peasant personalities like musicians, poets or artists. The scene was painted over five hundred times and the painting were sold in a week. His mother had commissioned the royal painter to make the official painting. On most of them, Auguste was kneeling before the clergy, who poured water down his bare shoulders and chanted a blessing for him, before giving him the royal attributs, a sword for power, a moon crescent to represent Astarte, a scepter for justice and a crown for his bloodline. Auguste bore it all with incredible maturity and calm, but his stomach was a maze of knots and anxiety.

Hopefully, his father came back to the capital city at the end of the year. He seemed fine, although thiner and paler, and his face wrinkled slightly, tired by two years of intense war and political intrigues. Aleron only ever smiled with Auguste anymore for a certain time, and Auguste was the sole recipient of his affections and joy. He blamed the rest of the court for Auguste’s accidents in Ios and the unrest at courts, and was harsh and severe with them, even his own wife. His son had to beg him to warmer to his wife, for him to finally grow back into the easy-going, party-loving, social and agreeable man he was before.

Vask was the sole loser in the war, and was forced to give up the conquered territories without ever trying to reclaim them, and had to pay an onerous toll. The discussions happened in Arles, and only women were capable of discussing peace with the female-only court of Skarva. Vannes was especially distinguishable from her role in the discussions, and Hennike promised her the role of ambassador in Vask when Auguste would be older and would not require her anymore.

With his father back to court, Auguste went back to his games, and promptly forgot all about his misfortunes, glad to have his “Papa” back and his toys to play with. He grew out of his princely alter-ego, as if he had played pretend all of these months, and everyone was glad to have their golden child back. His guards were less formal with him and continued to bring him on walks and secretly teach him some dirty sword tricks, his mother continued to have “brunch” with him and his expensive doll’s tea set, his father continued to hug him while he was in his laps and read to him, his uncle continued to stroke his hair for him to fall asleep during winter nights in front of the chimney and offer him toys. He laughed again, and overall forgot all about politics, except for his morning lessons and his tests. His role of a prince, had had forgotten for a while.

And oh, how Vere appreciate to have their sunshine back to them to forget about their empty stomaches and their daily troubles. With the angelic face laughing on the balconies, their hearts were filled with love and tenderness, and the memory of the small revolts repressed in blood by his uncle were forgotten for an hour, replaced by that of a child playing despite everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter !!! I think it will be the last chapter so focused on Vere's political context and Auguste will go on REAL adventures later on, as he grows up. 
> 
> The problem with this fic and format of year by year is that I have to summarize an entire year, and not dwell on details but ay, we'll see how it'll go.
> 
> I think I will do tiny one-shots that dwell longer on one aspect or adventure of Auguste's.


	5. 5th year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auguste is five.
> 
> He goes back to Akielos, to welcome the Crown Prince to the world. He finds his dolls again, in Arles, and goes back to being a child. But for how long? Civil war is threatening Vere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter honestly broke my heart to write, considering that Damen is going to kill Auguste 😞

The news of the birth of the Crown Prince of Akielos reached Vere in the late spring. Auguste had just turned five, and had began to learn more complicated dances, arithmetics, economy, politics,the violin and the piano, as well as officially starting his physical training. The court’s etiquette demanded a lot of him, to be a perfect little child and to be seen by everyone. Princes usually had been introduced to court only at fifteen, but his father was convinced that as a sacred Prince, he was fit to appear to court. Gone were his toys, and his only animation was the festivals, balls and symposiums given in their refurbished, sumptuous, baroque gallery of mirrors.

A birth in a foreign court meant that, as amicable royals, his family and their suites were conveyed to assist to the baby’s presentation and peculiar naming ceremony. They would spend five months there, leaving the regency of the country to the council, and more particularly, to Herode, who had grown into a trusted advisor of his father for his clever advice. His parents were still wary of leaving court due to internal unrest and a peasant revolt on the verge of breaking out, but his uncle had politely noted that refusing the invitation extended by Theomedes could be seen as a grave offense.

Thus, the royal court was actively preparing the departure of their royals in Akielos, rushing to tend to the luggages and the commodities. Brand new extravagant outfits were hastily confectioned by Charls, but they never lacked quality. Auguste grew more and more at ease with his new outfits, and, as a love of beauty, he was delighted to receive the newest fashion of the Kingdom and to have his face painted with lavishly costly paints by his governesses. Femininity was still sought in male children at court, and despite his trousers and tight jacket, which were mostly for his own comfort, his hair was styled to be as long as a young woman’s and his face as delicate looking as a princess’.

His crates were numerous and full of clothing, perfumes, books, shoes, jewelry and paints. He would have to be on his best behavior and to appear pristine and luxurious. Unbeknownst to him at that time, this jaunt was also the occasion to discuss an arranged marriage with the other ambassadors and royals of foreign courts. His tutors would follow him to perfect his education even more, to flaunt him and his memorable image of an educated and enlightened little prince. Him who thought the tour would be a pleasant one…

They departed on a cold morning. The carriage was still cold, and his woolen cape was no comfort to his ill. To warm him, Vannes and his mother, on each side of him, were pressed flush to his sides and tried as best as they could to entertain him to make him forget the threatening clouds. They rode for the entire day, during which Auguste had followed his lessons, given exceptionally by Vannes. She was bright and clever, and taught him about Vask, a matriarchal country that valued strength above all. Auguste had joked that no man in Vere could marry a Vaskian, if thus was the case. The women in the car had nervously laughed, and Auguste would learn why later in his life, when he would learn that he had been promised to the Vaskian heiress at only two, and would meet her in her own court and left to himself.

The trip lasted three days, during which Auguste tried to enthrall himself like he could. He invented games that required no support, like picking an object and asking the people in the carriage to guess what it was by asking him questions. A young lady, one of his mother’s pet, had gifted him a flute and taught him how to play and blow the notes. He also slept a lot, when his attention was not required by anything. It was overall an uneventful and stale journey.

They arrived in Ios on the late morning of the fourth day of their journey. The White City was colored by millions of flowers, and the dancing silhouettes of the citizens in their richest chitons. Music and fires permeated the city, and essence burned in every shop, to mask to foul odor of the beast they had sacrificed earlier in their garden or yard to celebrate their future King. The warmth of the day bathed the merry citizens, and made their laugh echo in the streets, conveying to Auguste and his suite. The child opened the window of the carriage to better see the people and enjoy the delicate odors and the light breeze of the sea.

The Akielon who saw him laughed at his amazed expression, or waved at him. Some boys on the side of the main avenue to the castle even gifted him white flowers and walked next to the slow car to speak with him. They talked of their training and of their new toys, and Auguste found himself deeply invested in the conversation, even if he could barely add to it, having forsaken his toys for an inked feather as soon as he blew his candles and having never held a spear in his hands. The boys left him with an heartfelt bye when the carriage arrived at the marble palace, and his guards watched the boys run away with a smile on their lips.

Theomedes and Kastor were standing on a dais, tall and proud in their red chiton embroiled with golden geometrical patterns and lit by the sun. They looked impressive, so tall and muscular, even Kastor for his age. Auguste was sure that his father would be jealous. He had even bought shoes with heels to make himself look taller, and when he saw Kastor, he drove his horse closer to the carriage where his son and wife were, and humbled something about “beats” and “taller than my own pup”. Hennike simply rolled her eyes at that, while Vannes stuffed herself with the delicacies they had brought in the morning to hide her smirk.

The foreign royals welcomed them heartily, or at last, as much as Kastor could. Theomedes was radient, and hugged Aleron with vigor. He was delicate with the Queen and playful with Auguste. He even joked light-heartedly with him, asking how his “bears” were. Auguste, who had since learned about tact and polite behavior blushed out of shame, and the King only laughed before ruffling his hair. Auguste wondered if he would be that joyful when he would have his first child. He hoped so.

Kastor greeted him coldly, and Auguste could easily guess that he was still blaming him for the lashes he had received a year ago. His back was not even scarred. The young boy decided to plainly ignore him for the rest of the visit, preferring the company of his own friends who followed him from Vere, his governesses or the children of Akielon nobles. He had more time to play, now that he was not at Arles anymore, and it came back to him naturally. He had missed playing pretend or with dolls.

Two weeks after the had arrived, two weeks during which he had traded his heavy Veretian costume for an expansive purple chiton that complimented his hair and complexion, Damianos was introduced to the world. The embassies and courts were invited to the great temple of Hera, on top of a hill near the sea, where a gigantic fire was lit. During the ceremony, Damianos was officially named and passed to important personalities, from _kyroi_ to foreign nobles. Since Auguste had to carry the baby, his parents made him sit on a chair, and delicately put the baby in his lap.

It was a weird feeling, to hold such a light and frail creature. Auguste could feel his heartbeat through his thin dark skin, and smell the tender fragrance of birth on him, a sweet smell, almost like cotton. He was soft to touch, and his thin curls were delicate to the touch. He cooed when Auguste stroked his hair, like he did with his dolls, and Auguste had laughed then, despite himself. It charmed both the Akielon and Veretian courts, who saw this brief exchange and first meeting as a good omen. Auguste had even been reluctant to let the baby go, contant to simply hold him and play with him.

He did not participate to the symposium this evening, judged too young for it. He heard talks of gladiator fights, blood and sweat, and he was happy to avoid it. For all he could find Akielon culture sophisticated in a very simple manner and deeply interesting, it could sometimes be barbaric and too aggressive for him. He spent the night with the youngest governesses, who read to him and took an evening tea with him. He was also permitted to see the royal baby one last time before bed, sleeping in his cradle, soundly.

He wanted a little brother.

But he knew that his mother had trouble giving birth. Before him, two babes had died in their first year, too weak to grow up continually and correctly. She had had numerous miscarriages, before and after him, that left her ailing and stuck in bed. His father started to lose hope for another child, and the council was almost thinking about breaking their marriage to find him a new wife. His father had only refused because it would mean delegitimating Auguste. He loved his son too much to deprive him of a princely life. His boy was his pride and joy, and no one could take him away from him.

The months spent in Akielos started to be a sort of routine. Each day resembled the previous. He would wake up, pray in his chambers with Mamanes, study for the rest of the morning, eat with Kastor and other noble children from all the courts in the world, practice dance and sword fighting, play piano for his mother in the late afternoon and violin for his father after dinner, spend a little time as dusk settled to explore Ios with his guards, sleep, and repeat. The only thing that could break this routine, was if a symposium was organized and if he could attend it, or when he could make up some time to visit the baby and gift him the flowers he had gathered earlier. Damianos seemed to like his little gifts, and even tried to eat them.

It was similar to his routine in Arles, except that the heat was the occasion to spend more time outside. He loved it, and he would sometimes imitate the adults and simply lay in the grass and bath in the sun. His mother had told him how bad it could be for his skin, which could burn, but thankfully for him, his skin seemed to tan, and soon enough, he had developed into his father’s tanned complexion, making him look more Veretian. Light freckles were the only sign of his porcelain skin beneath.

Unfortunately, he soon had to return to Arles, leaving the glowing star behind him as he did. The beginning of the summer in Arles was temperamental, and rain and lightening greeted them, instead of a calm blue sky. Going outside was forbidden while it rained, and thus, Auguste found himself locked inside, watching the droplets fall from the sky with melancholy. His lessons were his only distraction now. Court life was dull, after months of playing. The etiquette was weighing down on him, and made him depressed and closed off. It barely allowed him to smile in public, and he had almost no one to smile to in private.

His mother despaired to see her bright son so morose now, and begged her husband to let the child be a child and to make him retire from court. His father, who went ever so pliant when it came to his son’s happiness, accepted, although reluctantly, to only allow Auguste to appear to court on rare occasions.

The child welcomed the news with great joy, for it meant that after his lessons, he was free to do as he pleased, withoutcare in the world for the gaze of the court and in private areas. He could paint, garden, explore, clim, jump, run again, and it was all that mattered to him. He still appeared in public with his parents during parades, where the people could see him. But his youth was less and less enjoyable to them. Newspaper stopped speaking of him. When they did, it was of course always with adoration and a sense of parenthood proper to a people and their Crown Prince, who was symbolically the child of the Nation, but he was often eclipsed by news of poverty, famine and troubles.

Vaskian occupied territories threatened to start a revolution ; the court started to divide between two antagonistic factions between liberals, whose loyalty went to his father, and conservators, his uncle’s partisans ; nobles and citizens outside of Belloy grew more and more distant from the central power and preferred to them their lord, threatening directly the crown’s authority, by subsiding it for the provincial lord’s. If new territories could bring more riches to the crown and the nobles, the poorer citizens were still left with very few, despite the social policies taken by the council the previous years to calm the crisis. The bad weather was terrible for the crops, and mostly ruined them. Patras could ever give them so much wheat or meat.

Vere was in a dire situation, slowly dying and decaying, as were Auguste’s dolls. While he played, his people were dying. He could do nothing, about it, unaware and powerless. All he could do was being a symbol of hope. But the more he grew, the less his angelic and round face could save the crown from the unrest that was threatening the burst…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, being introduced to court is not the same as being present in the castle. Court implies strict etiquette and a constant audience... Poor baby. Normally princes are introduced to court at five, but was at time where they directly embodied the crown, and thus were introduced to court very very young, to the point where they could not have a normal childhood.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter btw!


End file.
